Of Love, and Betrayal
by dark-hearted rose
Summary: Long before Jack Sparrow roamed the Seas, long before William Turner fell for Elizabeth Swann, an elusive Goddess and a shy sea Captain lived and loved. This is their story. Set premovies, rating subject to change. Many thanks to all who Read and Review.
1. Prologue

**My first try at writing a full-length Pirates story...feedback on this (especially opinons on whether or not I should continue) would be much appreciated.**

**disclaimer: Pirates of the Caribbean belongs to Disney. This is written purely for entertainment, and no copyright infringment is intended.**

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_"Take hope from the heart of man, and you make him a beast of prey." – Marie Louise de la Ramee_

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prologue

"Calypso…I release you from your human bonds."

At last. At long last. The words had been spoken, the dreadful Pieces of Eight had been consumed in flame…in a matter of moments, she would be free. Free from the forced captivity of endless years, free from the oppression, the torment of being confined in a single form.

Of being kept from the sea.

Of being kept from her love.

But, as she learned to accept, each and every moment of her immortal life was bittersweet. For, in her moment of triumph, the eve of her victory over the Brethren Court that had trapped her so long ago, the boy with the touch of destiny approached her.

She regarded him warily as he came towards her, for her powers had not yet been fully restored. Therefore, expecting hostility, she was taken aback when he asked her a question instead.

"Who was it that told the Brethren Court how to imprison you?" he asked, not without a touch of bitterness, a touch of rage.

Very much like she felt at that moment.

It seemed like an easy question enough. If there was some ulterior motive, she could not detect it.

Strange, though. Curious, even. She was the Sea Goddess, Calypso. For countless millennia she had ruled the waters, leaving those humans bold enough to challenge her and her domain at her mercy. For a fraction of the time—though it seemed like an eternity—she'd been confined to one form, the form she detested most in the world. And now, she would have her revenge.

But she did not for the life of her know who it was that had betrayed her secret.

Either that, or she merely refused to admit it, to herself, to the world.

She struggled against her bonds, angered. "Name him," she said, her eyes on fire.

The boy paused, but only for a second. "Davy Jones," he said.

She screamed her rage to the world.

_How could you?_

Her feeble human emotions were not bonds enough to contain her ocean of grief. Could it really be that the one person she loved the most…had betrayed her?

She felt herself growing, shifting, expanding. But not yet was she free to go her own way, to rule once more, oh, no. She was still held by the ropes, by the men on board the ship. And now, they dared to ask her favor.

It was just too much.

And then, finally, she transformed. But no longer could she enjoy her moment of freedom, no longer could she reclaim her love, as she'd promised.

As _he'd_ promised.

_Oh, Davy…_

Blinded by rage, her heart screaming its pain, she had no choice. They would _all_ feel her wrath, her suffering.

Her tears.

After all, there wasn't any fury quite like that of a woman scorned.


	2. PART ONE: SINKING Chapter 1: Shipwreck

**Thanks to all the lovely reviewers: Anne Herbold, meghan, Malacandra, Anonymous Review leaver, Music is my Muse, PhantomPenguin, Zaerith-Chan, Hope-W, i like vader lots, and Sir Francis Drake's Heir. And a special thank you to Music is my Muse and EE's Skysong for being generous enough to beta this for me! Yay for you. :)**

**disclaimer: Pirates of the Caribbean belongs to Disney. This is written purely for entertainment, and no copyright infringment is intended. All typos or mistakes are my own, since I haven't put my betas to work yet...**

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chapter 1

He wasn't quite sure what had happened, if anything had happened at all. But of course _something_ must've happened, for why else would he be clinging to life on a passing piece of flotsam instead of standing on board his _Dutchman_, feeling the wind muss his hair?

He looked around, but could see nothing; just an endless expanse of ocean, and debris from when the ship had gone down, taking everything with it—his crew, his cargo, his possessions…

His life.

Well, not quite. He was, after all, still alive. Breathing, at least. But death seemed imminent, and he could think of nothing he wanted more than to sink into the open, welcoming arms of the ocean, the mirror image of his ship. After all, every captain worth his salt _always_ went down with his ship.

And Captain David Morgan Jones was _definitely_ worth his salt.

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He let the current take him, not caring where or why or when or how; he couldn't bring himself to care about anything anymore, not when he was dancing as intimately with death as he was.

Death. He'd never thought he'd reach it so soon. He was only in his early-thirties…far too young to die; by his standards, anyway. Then again, he'd always known he'd die young—being a sea captain was not really a stroll in the park, after all.

He heaved a sigh. _Captain_. Not anymore, not with his ship gone. Now, if he survived this, he'd have to start from scratch. All of his contracts, his commissions, his recommendations…all of his paperwork had gone down with the ship. But that, of course, was only the beginning. Without the paperwork, he'd be unable to get a decent crew.

And a ship.

He felt a pang reverberate in the very depths of what he supposed was his soul. His beautiful ship, his _Dutchman_…gone. He felt empty.

He floated listlessly with the gentle movements of the water for a while. It would be unbearably easy to just let go of the driftwood, to abandon his weathered body to the mercies of the sea. Infinitely easy, in fact. He'd never been much of a swimmer…it was remarkable that he'd even lasted after the accident as long as he had.

How long _had_ it been? One hour, two? More? The sun was still too high in the sky to gage it properly. The only constants now were the gentle noises and motions of the surrounding, enveloping water. Well, not so "gentle" anymore…and wind was picking up, making it choppy. Confused, he looked up at the sky, his eyebrows furrowing at the sudden proliferation of clouds that marred the previous clear blue.

Cursing his luck, he slid slowly off of the plank until all that joined the two was the firm grasp of his left hand. He stared pensively at the murky water, made even more so by the wind and the obscured sunlight. It really would be remarkably simple to abandon himself to the ocean…

His tranquilly-macabre thoughts were brutally interrupted by the sudden oncoming of a huge wave. Pushed under, he panicked, and he came back up sputtering, flailing around for a few moments until grasping the solid familiarity of the wooden plank. And, in that moment, he realized that he _didn't want to die_.

His honor, his pride shot to hell with this realization of self-preservation, he began paddling as the clouds opened and released their sudden fury, hoping to hit land.

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His arms and legs felt like they were threatening to fall clean off, he didn't know how much progress he'd made—if any—and…it was still raining.

Gasping, he pulled himself up further on the plank, feeling the slight decrease in buoyancy as he rested the better part of his torso on it. His lungs and throat felt constricted from the salt water, and it was difficult to breathe. He rested his head against the plank, this time seriously contemplating abandonment.

Until he looked to his left.

_Oh, sweet Jesus…LAND!_

Filled with a sudden new hope, his body coursing with adrenaline, he made for the shore.

Technically, it was nothing more than a small sandbar, one that could, at any moment, be swallowed up once more by the stormy waves that threatened even now as he propelled himself through the water. But, to David, it was the sweetest thing he'd laid eyes on in quite sometime.

A wave finally provided the final boost he needed, and he washed up onshore. Having mind enough to drag himself out of reach of the waves, he did so, then collapsed on the sand, his face to the sky.

He took quick, shallow breaths, his limbs going numb, his trunk rapidly following suit. He was going to die here, he knew that. But at least now he could die in relative peace.

And he closed his eyes for what he thought was the final time as the rain fell, kissing his face with an indescribable softness.


	3. Chapter 2: Rescue

**Thanks to: PhantomPenguin, Anne Herbold, i like vader lots, Zaerith-Chan, and all the lovely readers. **

**disclaimer: Pirates of the Caribbean belongs to Disney. This is written purely for entertainment, and no copyright infringment is intended.**

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chapter 2

The storm was coming along quite nicely, actually. Not too harsh so as to destroy everything in its path—not that she really could conjure one of those up at any given moment; she had to be angry to at least attempt one of those, and to tell the truth of it, she hadn't been _that _angry for a decade at least. But the storm was what the area needed, to replenish, refresh the air, not to rend it apart with lightning and thunder, to upset the sea life. So, she settled for merely letting the waves have their say, pushing this way and that, tickling her with their steady movements while she kept everything else under scrupulous control.

Such was the life of the Goddess.

She roamed as the storm continued, working itself up only to eventually blow itself out. Suddenly, she felt the tugging, incessant pull of many lost souls, all concentrated in one spot.

Intrigued, pained, she dove, shifting forms even as she did.

The lone female dolphin surged forward, using her echolocation as she swam to better navigate through the depths. She sent out a series of squeaks, the communication of her kind, heedless of the too-cold water as she swam, deeper and deeper.

There. Just ahead.

She shifted again, this time not even bothering to take a substantial form, but becoming the surrounding water.

A ship had gone down recently, the remains of which now rested before her. It was a grim sight, augmented by the fact that several corpses—the remains of the crew—were caught in the wreckage, the rest allowed to roam to the surrounding area.

She surveyed the wreck out of curiosity; it was a beautiful ship, intricate woodworking everywhere. She floated, examining every detail, transfixed, wondering for the first time what life on this ship would have been like…

Soon, she reached the captain's quarters, miraculously still in tact. The living space was comfortable, of course, with still more of the peculiar woodwork adorning the walls. In the corner was a small cot, tipped over, eerie in its stillness. A desk to her right, navigational instruments strewn on the floor…she turned to her left, and gasped.

There, adorning the full inner wall of the cabin was a magnificent instrument, the likes of which she had never seen before. She wasn't even sure how she knew it was an instrument in the first place, but it called to her and she approached, shifting to a more substantial form.

The mermaid shook her mane of hair back away from her face prettily, shivering at the cold waters surrounding her. Reaching out with her hand, her finger lightly touched one of the keys of the instrument.

Nothing happened.

Disappointed, she shook her head, making her way back out of the room. With sad eyes, she surveyed the wreckage once more before shifting again, resplendent in the full glory of the Goddess.

She had work to do.

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An hour later she resurfaced, glad to be free from the grim work of ferrying the souls to the other side. The least pleasant part of her occupation, she tried to avoid it as much as possible, only completing the task when she couldn't bear the endless, unceasing chorus of voices, calling out to her for peace, for rest. Her job done, though, she was jubilant, and the storm of her making reflected this new happiness, this new peace by slowing down, the rain now falling softly.

Through the water she swam, thinking of nothing, reveling in the pure freedom, the solace of the ocean that reflected that which was within her…her favorite sandbar was ahead, a place she tried to visit often, to think, to reflect, and to guard.

She was puzzled once she reached her destination, however. There, laying face up in the middle of her precious sandbar, was a man.

She shifted quickly, and the small crab scuttled up the beach, intent on investigating this intruder.

His overall appearance was ravaged, and he was barely breathing. But the important thing was the fact that he still clung to life. Resolute that this person would not die here, under her care, she shifted again to a form she was loath to use, yet suited this purpose the best.

Muscles bunched under dark skin as she picked the man up, cradling him securely in her arms as though he weighed no more than a small child. Shaking her dreadlocks out of her face, she stepped resolutely forward into the ocean, calling upon all of her power as she continued to walk forward, not sinking, but supported by the water beneath her bare feet.

The man stirred, and looked up at her for a moment, bright blue eyes barely coming into focus before sinking back into unconsciousness with a moan.

She smiled sadly as she continued to walk forward; somewhere in the depths of her being, she knew those eyes.

"A touch of destiny you have about you, Davy Jones," she said quietly, all the while continuing on her way, making for land.


End file.
